


The Chains you Choose

by Arcanista



Series: Our Own Sins [8]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Blood Magic, F/M, Flashbacks, Other, POV Third Person, Past Tense, Polyamory Negotiations, Pregnancy (mentioned), Present Tense, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Soul Selling, Time Skips
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 02:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arcanista/pseuds/Arcanista
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Consumed by ardor that lingers from her encounter with Samson, Inquisitor Lavellan finally makes an admission to Blackwall that she has feared for a long time. All the same, he fears that she will stray when he goes to the Wardens.</p><p>Ten years before, the girl who will become Inquisitor slips away from her clan's camp, and makes a deal with forces beyond her comprehension.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Chains you Choose

**Author's Note:**

> Immediate follow-up, timewise, to Uses of Broken Things.

_The air was still and quiet around the camp; everyone had bedded down for the night. The late spring air was already thick and humid; Iskia hated when the clan roamed the northern parts of the Marches. But the Keeper had insisted on coming up here to take a look at these ruins. She'd proclaimed them safe, but Iskia wasn't privy to what exactly was down there. Not that she_ expected _to be; she had no vallaslin yet, and no real craft. But she_ wanted _to know. And she needed some privacy._ Real _privacy, not the false seclusion that was enough for a tryst._

 _She waited a good half hour longer than she thought she needed, just to make sure anyone who might catch her was asleep. She could creep_ fairly _well, but not well enough to evade an alert hunter. But longer than that and prudence started to feel like cowardice. Iskia slipped a knife into her belt and carefully tiptoed out of the tent she had all to herself._

 _Once she was well into the forest, Iskia pause and pressed her lips together. Her fingers lifted, and she_ reached _for power-- power that answered her call. Right now, only to silence her steps, make her fade even more in the darkness of the forest. She_ should _tell the Keeper, she knew. Before she found out on her own. And she would, eventually. But she was the oldest of anyone in the clan to come into magecraft. Likely the Keeper would think she had been concealiang it for far longer than she had._

_Besides, for now, this power belonged to her and her alone. It was a treasure she kept close to her chest, and if her dreams had grown more troubled of late because of it... well, she'd learned valuable things, and they'd been nothing she couldn't handle._

_Why exactly would now be any different?_

There is fire in her blood. Iskia leans against the wall of the hallway for a few moments, just trying to catch her breath. That was _not_  how she intended that meeting to go. Oh, she'd been _sympathetic_  to the man's position before, that was for sure. Did the best he could with a bad lot. But she'd thought Samson's spirit crushed, thought him ground into resignation and dirt. She didn't expect to see sparks sill flashing in his eyes. Didn't expect him to keep _up_  with her.

Maker, but she needs to _fuck_.

More than that. This need in her... how close had she come to just pouncing upon him then and there? Too close. The sheer act of denying herself makes her head spin. Pair that with the fever of watching him, seeing just how his lyrium-addled mind _works_? Seeing all the pieces of him on the ground, _knowing_  how to put him back together. Will he be the same as he was before? Of course not.

But he will be _better_ , and he will _belong to her_. But not yet.

She pushes off the wall, starts stalking her way toward the courtyard. She moves with purpose, shoulders back. She never needs to swerve out of anyone's way. Not in Skyhold, not anywhere. Because she is Inquisitor? Perhaps that is a part of it. But no one need even recognize her directly to know that _she_  commands here. All in the motions, all in the _confidence_.

Iskia veers for the stables; that's where Blackwall usually is this time of day. She sees him at a distance, seated on a bale of hay. Jars rest on his work bench. Waiting for the paint to dry? Better that she's not interrupting him all the same.

She takes him utterly by surprise, sliding onto his lap and grasping his beard in both hands. She kisses him hard, hard as she dares in public, not nearly hard enough to quench her desire. Then, from nowhere, she slams three words together, words she never _dared_  to connect. Does she speak them truly? In this moment, surely, yes. On Blackwall's lips, she says, all fire and no smoke, "I love you."

_ The ruins were mostly underground, and Iskia couldn't see very well once the moonlight faded behind her. She paused then, and called a wisp of light to hover over her shoulder. She inhaled sharply through her teeth as soon as it was bright enough for her to see by. Even the staircase downward was marked with intricate carvings. And was this writing? She squinted close at it, but she couldn't make out anything. _

_It occurred in that moment that if she'd spoken to the Keeper about her gifts, she might know a bit of how to read the inscriptions. No. No, this was old enough there was no way the Keeper would be able to understand it._

_The stairs opened up into a large, circular antechamber, with strange mosaics on the walls. They looked like they depicted elves-- the gods, maybe? But her light wasn't bright enough to get a very good look at them. The room was empty anyway, aside from three doors that led further inside. Iskia picked one at random and passed through._

_There were no sounds in here. Iskia wondered if she should be scared. But the silence was_ new _. It was never like this in a camp. There was always_ some _sort of noise, either from people or the halla or just other wildlife. This place, where she was the only thing alive? This was marvelous. How long had it been since anyone but her clan had even been in here? She kept her hand on the left wall, to keep from getting lost. The trick worked, and she made her way through chamber after chamber that got progressively dustier the further she went._

_Iskia came to a dead end in a room that was unadorned, save for an empty stone plinth in the centre. Or... no, as she ran her fingers over it, pushing the dust away, there was writing gouged into it. She couldn't make out a single word._

_It was time to change that. She reached for her belt knife, held it easily in her left hand. A little blood, right? That's all it would take. She slid the sharp edge against her right palm, biting her lip against the pain. Tiny droplets slowly beaded to the surface. So little? She squeezed her hand a few times, trying to work more out. How much was enough?_

_Sweet Creators, it hurt. But as she painfully worked the blood to the surface, she opened herself up to power._

Iskia draws Blackwall up to her chambers. She will not take him in the barn, not anymore. Not even in the most secluded spot, away from any prying eyes. The memory of awakening there alone is still too much for her to want to confront. Even if they're not going to be sleeping there. Anyway, her desires today are not swift. No, she takes him every which way it's possible for a woman to take a man.

If there is one thing she is certain of, it is that he is hers and hers alone. And he is not diminished by that: it is his _joy_  to hear her voice in his ear, to direct him with word alone. His hands are no less firm upon her, and he is no shrinking violet, that is for certain. No, she would never tolerate a _passive_  man, a cowed man. His hands are heavy upon her, and she cries out, because that is what _she_  likes.

This is their love: her control and his honour, and only a fool would think it less real for the shape of it. He is precious and irreplacable to her, and she to him.

When they finish, they are sweaty and exhausted and she is curled up tight in his arms. She does not ache as much as she might dream of, but she is satisfied as she rests her cheek upon his shoulder. His arms are close araound her, and she is calmed for the moment.

Blackwall curls his arms around her and moves her to lay beside him. His fingers rise to her chin and raise her eyes to meet his. They tremble, so faintly she barely notices, and he takes a deep, deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut and he utters five words to make Iskia's blood run cold: "My Lady. We should talk."

_ Three hands squeezed Iskia's shoulders. A fourth, white as smoke reached down to meet her hand. One finger, too long, joints all mis-proportioned, stroked down the cut in her palm. The pathetic little droplets of blood halted as the cut sealed. That was trivial, as healing magic went, but it was the furthest thing in the world from what she expected. She took deep breaths, doing her best to stay calm, to not run away. _

_The hands lifted away, and two forms drifted around to the other side of the plinth-- the_ altar _. Neither seemed to touch the floor. One was black as a shadow, tall and stick-thin, and six spindly wings reached out of its back. It had no face that she could see, and its arms were too thin, too long. The other was white like nothingness, short and crooked and with eyes on all sides of its head. Iskia swallowed hard, but remained steady. This was what she'd intended, wasn't it? Whatever it was she'd called up-- surely they would give her the power, the_ knowledge _she desired. Wouldn't they?_

_"So calm," said the dark figure, drifting to the corner of the room and back. Its voice was high-pitched and clear, almost singsong._

_"So foolish," said the bright, changing places with the dark. It spoke with a deep, resonant voice that made her bones rattle. Iskia wet her lips, and willed her wisp-light brighter, but it made neither figure more distinct before her._

_The dark being moved closer,_ through _the altar. "But fortunate for her sake," it said._

_"Fortunate for ours," said the dark. Something like amusement sang in those words. Iskia's breath caught in her throat. Fortunate to be calm? How? Didn't matter. She refused to be afraid. She willed it._

_The white figured circled her. For all that it had no face, Iskia could swear it was smiling. "An elvhen girl," it said. "Speak, da'len. Your kind is not unknown to us."_

_The dark moved around the walls of the chamber. "Give us your name, da'asha. You are lost in this place. We could seize you now, and no one would know you were gone."_

_Iskia swallowed heavily, trying to keep a close eye on the both of them. "I'm not lost," she said, and did her best to throw her shoulders back. Sounding confident was as good as being confident, right? "I know exactly how I got here. And if I went missing, my clan would come looking for me in the morning. So I won't just_ give _you my name." Something did occur to her as she spoke. "But I'll trade it to you. For your names."_

_The dark being laughed, and it sounded like bells. "A clever girl seeks to make a deal?"_

_The white being laughed, and it sounded like thunder. "A frugal girl seeks to gain advantage?"_

_"I accept," they said as one._

_"Call me Caution," said the blackened form, moving to face Iskia._

_"Call me Foresight," said the bright, as it stood beside the dark. "Now what shall we call you?"_

_"Iskia," she said. It was not her whole name. But it was a piece. And she suspected these-- these_ demons _had given her no more than that of themselves. It would not fool them, surely. But she didn't have to, if they just allowed her this._

_"Very well, then, Iskia," said Foresight, its many-eyed head tilting toward her. "What would you have of Caution?"_

_"What would you have of Foresight?" asked Caution, its wings reaching toward her._

_"I want to know-- things. Everything." Iskia took a deep breath, and the words came out of her in a rush. "I want to look at people and know how to get them to do what I want. I want the_ world _to know who I am. I don't want to live my life-- sewing halla leather, or even being a First or a Keeper. I want to_ see _everything. I want to_ do _everything. I want to_ feel _everything." It sounds foolish as she says it aloud, but she will not recant. Can these demons even_ do _that for her? "But-- but I won't let you possess me," she added hastily._

_The demons looked at each other. "The timing is fortuitous," said Foresight._

_"The timing is too_ early _," said Caution. Its wings made a sharp, snapping motion in the air._

_"Earlier than we need," Foresight said, rolling its head in a circle. "But this is good. We can use this time to our advantage. It's closer than you think. There are stirrings everywhere, here and in the south. Mother is making her plans. This is a golden opportunity for us to prepare. This girl will suffice. More than."_

_Caution snapped its attention back to Iskia, who still stood as boldly as she dared, chin high. "This is unwise._ Nothing _could happen. Your auguries have been wrong before. But better we are prepared and nothing happens than for Mother to take the advantage of us. Very well, da'len. We will give you what you wish, and more. But will our price suit you, I wonder?"_

_"Tell me what you want, and what you'll give," said Iskia._

"What about?" asks Iskia. Nothing good could ever start from that. But what in the world could he want to talk about? The child, perhaps? But they've already decided to keep it, unless the war made it unreasonable to. She'd really rather not deal with the cramps from flushing another out of her system. Once had been enough for that.

Blackwall takes her hands in his, squeezes them tight. His jaw sets, and he takes a deep breath. She's rarely ever seen him look so resolute. Not the child, she's fairly sure. But what then? He says, "It's about what's to happen after all this is over. After I leave for the Wardens."

Iskia presses her lips together and searches Blackwall's face. She curls her fingers tight around his hands, and asks, "What of it? We needn't be separated for too long. You don't think it's inappropriate, do you? But truly, if we're to work closely with the Wardens, and I think we should especially while they lack the manpower--"

"I don't mean the Wardens," Blackwall says, and rolls just far enough to lie on his back. He doesn't let go of her hands, and she grips them even tighter. "You and I, my Lady. This-- whatever _this_  is. We need to talk about what will happen when I go."

He raises this question _now_  of all time. She sits up slowly and looks down at him. "Can't this wait?" she says. "Surely this is something we could discuss after Corypheus is defeated."

"No, it has to be now," says Blackwall. "While I have the nerve." He looks up at her, watching her face closely. "Earlier, you said you love me. Do you mean that?" He gives her hand a squeeze. Is it supposed to be reassuring?

"Of course I _meant_  it," says Iskia. Did she? Does she even know what love _is_? But she had no doubt in her soul when the words spilled from her. She must love him. She must. "What sort of question is that? We're having a _child_."

"Because I know you, my Lady. _Iskia_." He sighs, weaving his fingers through hers. "What does loving me _mean_  to you? You won't let me go. I know that. I still have trouble believing, but I know. I love you, but I _know_  you. I know your wandering eye."

Iskia wets her lips, fingers flexing in Blackwall's grip. "What about it?" she says. She leans her head back, looking up at the ceiling for a moment or three. "I've told you, it's just looking. I wouldn't do that to you. Besides, for all I know you'll be back in time for the baby, and I'll just feel like I don't want anyone to touch me at all the whole time."

Blackwall's eyebrows raise up and he just looks at her. "You don't believe that any more than I do. But that's always how you say it. It's a _sacrifice_  for you. What are you going to do while I'm gone?"

Well, she doesn't want to _lie_  to him. But what is she going to say? She slides her teeth over her lower lip. "I hadn't really thought about it," she says. That feels like less of a lie. "Blackwall, I... you know I don't want to hurt you. What do you want from me?"

He sighs again, and lets her hand go. "I don't want to think of you with someone else, whether I'm in Skyhold or not," Blackwall says. "But I _want_  you to be happy. I don't know. _Would_  you be happy waiting for me?"

And there it is, really. Iskia lies down on her back beside Blackwall, letting out her breath slowly. "I don't know," she says, and lets her shoulders sink into the bed. "That's not what you want to hear. But, I just don't know. I've never _gone_  that long without that sort of contact since I was thirteen. Since... ever, I suppose that means."

"Maker's balls," says Blackwall. He goes quiet after that, fingers running down Iskia's arm. She bites her lip, glancing at him as he lies back and thinks, or whatever it is he's doing. He turns his head toward her, and says faintly, "You'll never make it. The question's just if I pretend not to know."

"I don't _want_  to hurt you."

"It'd be easier if you did," says Blackwall. "I could just stay with the Wardens, then. Not come back. I wonder if that's what I _should_  do."

Iskia squeezes her eyes shut against a wave of dizziness that twists her head. She takes three deep breaths, before asking, "Is that what you want to do?" Her fingers curl, nails digging sharply into her palms. She twists them some, centering her attention on the pain.

Blackwall's arms reach out and pull her close against his chest. "No," he says. "But I don't know what to think about it. Just... just do what you need to do. I don't want to know the details. Maybe... maybe that's cowardly of me. We should probably talk about it again if I... if I survive the Joining."

Iskia opens her eyes and curls her arms tight around Blackwall's body, worming her arms between him and the bedsheets. "Of _course_  you'll survive!" she says, shoulders twitch as she gripped him closer. "I _refuse_  to have you die on me."

"Then we're just going to have to work this out," says Blackwall. "I just... I need time to decide if I can be happy this way. I'm not losing you, but... this might be too much."

That is enough for Iskia to work with. She closes her eyes for a moment more, and she says the only words she knows that will draw him closer, rather than drive him away. Because they're true, or to chain him tighter to her? She doesn't know. "I'm not made the way you need me to be. If that's too much, then, I... I won't keep you. You know I won't. I won't make you. I won't lie to you. I don't... you know what I _want_. But, I..." Tears rise in her eyes. She doesn't even know if they're real or not.

Blackwall strokes Iskia's hair slowly, fingers weaving through it. "Ssh. I'm here _now_."

_ The demons  _ swirled _  around each other. Iskia stood tall, watching them, staying as steady as she could. As calmly as she could. Whispers carried to her ears, but she understood none of them. They  _ sounded _  like elvish, to be sure, but she didn't know any of the words. Her fingers twitched and curled up against her palms, her light bobbing over her shoulder. _

_Eventually, the figures parted. "This is our offer, da'len," said Foresight._

_"It is this or nothing," said Caution. "We will not negotiate."_

_Iskia relaxed her hands, one finger at a time. "Offer it, then," she said. The demons loomed even closer, though as far as Iskia could tell they never even moved._

_"What you ask cannot be_ given _," said Foresight._

_"You ask for a great deal, and you know that well," said Caution. The two turned their heads toward each other, before looking back to Iskia. "You ask for more than we can impart, but what can be taken."_

_Foresight drew closer to Iskia, twisted frame warping as it moved. "It can be taken, and with that and patience, you could have all you desire, and more." Its fingers reached up, spidering over her face. She tried not to shiver. "Part of the price is to_ accept _the fullness of what you have asked for."_

 _Caution's wings spread out stretching to the corners of the wall. "Accept, and you will have knowledge beyond what anyone thinks you_ should _. If you can take it."_

_"You will not think this a price," said Foresight, fingers sweeping back into Iskia's hair. She shuddered now, but stood tall. "You should. But this is not the only thing. This blood. Never again will you trade blood for power. The blood that flows in these veins shall no longer be your own."_

_"Accept, and you will_ rule _," said Caution. It was unraveling into an inky mist now, slowly but fading at the edges. "If you can seize the power."_

 _"Three times, you must kneel to another," Foresight said. Its fingers ran down her arms, tracing the veins it offered to claim from her. "Three times, you will bind yourself. Only when you surrender the last piece of yourself shall you be_ free _."_

_The wisp of light by Iskia's shoulder winked out. Foresight was blindingly bright in her eyes. Caution's sweet voice rang in her ears, "You shall speak with the voice that moves hearts," it said. "If you learn what makes them beat. We can poise you to claim all of this. Everything that you desire."_

_"We require the bindings yet to come," said Foresight. "On a day that may never come, we require your soul."_

_"I will_ not _be possessed by you," said Iskia, as swiftly as she could. She prayed she sounded more confident than she felt. "I will not lose myself."_

_"We will not possess you," said Caution. Its darkness flickered apart. "You will not lose yourself."_

_"You will_ gain _yourself," said Foresight, dissolving into light. "But we will require your compliance for a time. You will not be harmed. You will remember nothing of it. For your own safety, and ours."_

 _"In exchange for_ that _service," said Caution, its voice echoing close to Iskia's ear. "You may call upon us. Once."_

_"The offer is thus," Foresight's voice resonated through the ground. "We will grant you power. We will grant you knowledge. We will give you the secrets that lie within hearts. In potentia. We will answer the call of Iskia-who-did-not-name-her-clan once."_

_"In exchange," Caution's voice sang through the air. "You shall submit to three bindings to another's power. Your blood and soul shall be forefit. Immediately, we require your time."_

_"No harm shall come to you," said Foresight, and the sound of wingbeats roared through the room. "At least, through this exchange."_

_"This is an honour beyond your knowing," said Caution, as the feeling of feathers brushed over Iskia's cheeks. "Now, what say you to Caution?"_

_Iskia swallowed hard, looking through the room as best she could, but it was too dark to see anything. Was this foolish? Probably. But how could she say anything else? "I accept."_

_"You are far luckier than you imagined. There are things far worse to be called from the Beyond than Caution and Foresight," said Foresight, as claws dug into her shoulders. Weight sunk onto each shoulder. "What say you to Foresight?"_

_Now Iskia nodded, her cheeks brushing against thick feathers. "I accept."_

_A beak brushed Iskia's left ear. "Now sleep," said the raven called Fear. "And forget."_

_A beak brushed Iskia's right ear. "Now forget," said the raven called Deceit. "And sleep."_


End file.
